Oldie but a Goodie. Oldie or a Goodie?

Over prepare and go with the flow.

Words to live by spoken, out loud, by an octogenarian named.

“Burt.”

Live and learn.

Or

So “they” say.

Burt would remind and remember. This mantra of a life well lived.

Bitterness is as bitterness does in precarious and various ways and means. The end does not justify the means. The end never justifies, at all.

What happened?

Burt got hurt.

Expression was his problem.

Or.

Lack thereof…….

Hurt has a way of turning us inside out.

Inside. Out.

Hurt hurts.

The longest part of going home, is the last part. (ml/hnw)

Indeed.

For believers. It is the only part. That matters.

Overprepare.

Go.

With.

The.

Flow.

Thinking we have any control of the outcome is why we struggle so much.

What is our reward?

Home.

”Rejoice and be glad, because great is our reward in heaven.” (Beautiful Beatitudes.)

More like:

Beautiful Attitudes.

After all, it has been said before, by someone:

”Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

Who wouldn’t want applause, just for entering a room?🙂

The future is never written in stone. Is it?

The final battle:

Good clashes with evil.

The sacred encounters the sinful.

In the midst of the battlefield, there is a rose.🌹

Yep.

The tears sometimes even water the rose of growing and blooming. Especially this time of year. Provided the soil has been tended to with the care and nurture of love and loving.

”Each moment is a step taken.” (ml/hnw)

”Each day is a mile marked, a mountain climbed.”

Blessings can change our lives.

They can.

The fierce competition of life renders us notsomuch benevolent, obedient, but all too willing to throw another under the bus in an instant. That’s the “funny” thing about self-importance.

It is importance only to the self.

It is selfish. The selfish voice we are overly awesom.

The Master’s Voice.

The only voice of trust.

Because.

It whispers quietly.

It thunders roariaously, too.

Can downright scare the you-know-what out of us.

We cower.

He says, “Bring it On.”

We say. Tomorrow is an another day to “change” my ways. I can project until the cows come home, come cowering. No one will test me. I have come this far……I am awesome.

Enter. The fools.

Fools rush in.

Except.

We do not notice.

Because.

We checked our hair in the mirror of our same old same old reflection.

And we think.

Hey. I look good.

Don’t need to change anything about me.

Reminder:

You are special.

You are the salt of the earth.

We need ya.

To step it up.

No worries.

He has got this.

”Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?” (Matthew 6:25-26)

Why?

He is your portion. Your provider. The rest? Of the story?

IS the battlefield.

The never ending battlefield of who is more important.

Than He.

Call it a differing of opinions all you may. Or want.

In the end.

It does not really matter.

But.

It DOES show true colors.

True colors.

I do not make the rules.

Burt who is hurt does not either.

It is a grace and a privilege to grow older.

Can we stop hedging the bets and the best of one another’s’ old ness, young ness, perceived or factual.

I am afraid.

Right now.

We are on the big and vast battlefield where prayers of support are the only answer to support the fighter.

who is willing to fight the good fight.

The smart fight.

The endless fight.

Some lessons in life come at us hard. Real hard.

Sometimes we learn to do better.

Sometimes we scoff at the way things are.

The same old same old.

Burt hurts.

There is a difference between good intentions and a true servant heart.

An obvious difference.

An in-your-face-difference.

Knowing versus knowing is the difference between knowing.

Sorry.

Can’t be any plainer than the truth.

The cold hard facts and the cold hard truth butt heads often hedging or not—-with the ever-loyal support staff of either side. Both sides.

The battle lines on the battlefield are drawn.(again)

No body blinks.

Everybody is blinking.

Who notices.

Burt. Who hurts.

Because. He hurts.

Admitting there is a problem is the first step in healing it. In dealing with it.

Otherwise.

The politics of dancing has humans tripping all over their two left feet.

Peace is possible.

It ain’t easy. Tendencies have an insidious and expression-filled way of being written all over our squinty eyes and confused expressions.

Stay in your lane?

That is for amateurs.

Amateurs.

Step it up.

No. God no. Not your self importance. No. No. No. Not that.

Dance?

I dunno.

Dancing can be a rather personal and intimate portrait and portrayal of a person.

Bump and grind?

Ballroom dance?

Drop it like it’s hot?

Spin on your back?

Pop it like it’s hot.

When the cotillion of life comes skipping up to you, at ya, where will you be,

Dancing.

On the field.

In the parking lot.

Nowhere.

Everywhere.

For a goodie?

For an oldie?

To be your new goodie?

Stop.

For a treat?

Dogs do it. Dance. For a treat. And. They care very little how foolish they look. Dogs have a beginning , middle end mentality. The difference between the strings of attachment and the strings of life are greatest for dogs because they are the hunters of their own survival. One can not say the same for the weakness of humans. We like shortcuts.

There are no shortcuts.

In humankind. Unfortunately. There exist incessant hunters for another’s survival. Batted eyes, flipped hair, gyration and batted balls included. We may pretend we are not “workin’ it.” When, in fact, we are. To ensure we do not hurt. We matter. We are not what we really are. Foolish fools.

Worse, the hunter of another person’s life. Livelihood. Adding arrogance to selfishness, we then expect others to just,

accept it, take it, or whatever.

Dogs dance to trigger a treat when they choose.(hnw)

Humans dance to trigger a provocation to cause a stir—a churn— when they feel hurt and vulnerable.

Just ask Burt about the hurt. You may learn a thing or two— to stay away from his own outburst and buried treasure of anger and hostility. Expression left Burt with no alternative. He spread his wealth of anger far and wide.

An oldie?

A goodie?

Who cares as long as the check “clears.”

Stay tuned.